The Fate of Reality
by Koszmar
Summary: Continuation of A Dose of Reality. Don't read first; you will be confused. Set after Thor TDW but before Captain America WS. The Reality Stone is split in two: half with once-intern now stand-in-god Darcy Lewis, the other with Loki. They have far different ambitions, but after Darcy makes a wish to see destiny, she finds out how horrible some ambitions can be. Ragnarok is looming.


_**Author's Note:**_

_Woo! Back with part two! I just want to say sorry for how short this first post is. I wanted it to be longer, but I didn't want to really go further than this just yet, at least not in one chapter, so I hope this will suffice for now. Think of it as a teaser?_

_And for anybody who didn't catch the summary and hasn't read part one (A Dose of Reality)... STOP READING NOW! This is a sequel, and if you don't read the other part first I'm afraid you'll miss out on how all of this came to happen in the first place. The first part is long, I know, but this story really can't be fully appreciated without it._

_But for those who read the first part and came for seconds...Welcome back and thank you for reading on! Hope you enjoy._

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**Chapter 1 – Revival**

It was a conversation long since overdue. Since that moment in the Vault when Odin had first confessed his lies and betrayals, Loki had been waiting for a moment—for _this_ moment—to speak his heart without any fear of repercussion or ridicule. He couldn't help but grin as he stared as his once-father. The Asgardian was only half the man he once was, so much loss having weighed heavily on his brow, the man's face pale and gaunt. He was far from worthy of the title All-Father anymore. Loki started to say as much when a flash of _Darcy's_ father welled up in his mind, the absentee man a reminder of the honor his own still carried. He squeezed his eyes together and forced the image, the memories, away. They were not his; that was not his life.

"There's nothing you can say to change your fate this time Odin, and you know the truth of my words." He chuckled, "And yet they still call you the Father of _All_. But look at you now; pathetic. A fallen king among a planet of stagnant would-be gods that are no less ignorant than the small mortals of Midgard. How could I have ever thought your people to be my own? No, no—" he rushed with another laugh, raising his hand in a motion to keep the Asgardian King from speaking, "—there's no need for a reply my _liege._" He spat the word out and made a mocking bow. "I know everything you're about to say.

It was for the good of the realms. It was for my _own_ good. It was so I would fit in. It was for the best. Well whose best _father_!" He shouted the last part, his hands fisting at his sides as he stepped closer, every tease, every joke played on him throughout his long childhood welling up inside, memories of Darcy's abandonment twisting together, her own feelings toward the past pushed aside so that he could be bitter and angry _for_ her. He had never fit in; _she_ had never fit in. He'd never been good enough. _I'm good enough for Darcy._ No! He shook away the stray thought and forced out a dry laugh, holding back the tears that wanted so desperately to break free as the cruel laughter of Thor's friends echoed in the memories of his mind. _Nobody could truly love a monster, they are all lying to you or too naïve to know better._

"It wasn't for the best Odin." He continued, leaning back again and reigning in his emotions. "Not for me, and certainly not for you." Loki grinned, this one in earnest as he stared at the king's slack face.

Odin was lying on a cot, his eyes shut and his thinning face emotionless as he rested in the forced deep-sleep that Loki had placed him in. The king-less throne sat occupied by an image of Odin, an illusion made so real by the magic of the Stone in his possession that none, not even Heimdall, could tell the difference. Not that it would have mattered much, even if he _had_ been noticed. When Loki had arrived in Asgard a month past he'd made swift arrangements to assure his safety and power. Heimdall had been _swayed_ to his service, and once the Warriors Three and their pretty little warrior-woman Sif had returned, they too had been enlisted into his service. Loki still couldn't bear to masquerade as Odin, and so an illusion was left to rule in their stead as he busied himself with other ventures and the All-Father slept away the hours.

"Loki, please stop this." A woman's voice pleaded from the other side of the room.

Taking a deep breath, Loki turned to face her. He frowned when the woman came into view, his heart aching as a seed of ire grew in his stomach again. It happened each time he saw her, a testament to his own weakness and failings, her whispers and entreats a constant ringing in his mind, right beside the ghost of Darcy that had been left behind and other voices of doubt that seemed to crop up each day. This woman was a different sort of ghost though, one he couldn't yet bring himself to wish away regardless of the pain she caused him.

"Have I upset you mother?" He asked with a forced sneer that hid the pain bubbling beneath the surface. "Or are you afraid that I've upset your King?"

Frigga stood with her arms crossed, still dressed in the garbs she'd been sent away to the stars in. They were sheer and shimmered with a faint blue tint, her entire body the same, here and yet not quite. She had been his first mission after securing Asgard. He'd been so sure that he could resurrect her after watching Darcy bring his brother and the others back, countless Midgardians brought back to life in an instant. He thought, how difficult could one life be when compared to so many others. It seemed an easy task to accomplish, even with only half of the Stone, and yet—and yet he had failed; but not completely. No, he'd brought back a mere shade of his mother, an incorporeal form that few could see and none could touch, not even him. It hurt to see her, the evidence of his failure, and hurt even more to hear her admonishments, but he could not bring himself to banish her back to the realm of the dead. _Because you are weak,_ a voice in his head spat with disgust, _weak and foolish._

"I am only afraid of the damage you continue to do to yourself my son." She stepped closer, pulling her shawl around her more tightly as if she could feel the chill in the air. "Put an end to this Loki. This isn't you, this won't make you happy."

"And what do you know of my happiness?" He asked the question but didn't want to hear the answer.

"I know that you were happy once, when you were younger and had your family around you; you were loved, you _are_ loved."

"My family." Loki forced out a fake laugh, "I never had my family around me, I was stolen away from them if you remember." He looked over his shoulder to Odin again and whispered under his breath, "I was stolen away from death."

"Why do you punish yourself this way Loki?" Frigga begged to know, and Loki knew if he turned around he would see pale tears, glowing like the moon, falling down her cheeks. He didn't turn. "Why do you insist on refusing to see what's before you?"

As the last question left her lips, a vision burst open in Loki's mind, a vision of a future his heart reached out for again and again as the days passed by, a vision he'd kept Darcy from seeing at all costs. It was a vision of blood and destruction, of Asgard, Vanaheim, Alfheim and Nidavellir; of Jotunheim, Svartalfheim, Hel and Muspelheim; it was a vision of nearly every realm connected through the roots and branches of Yggdrasil coming to an end; it was a vision of the end of all pain for not only himself, but for everyone. If he could not have happiness, why should anyone else? If he had to suffer, why should he not share a release with every other realm he could touch directly? He would leave Midgard for Darcy of course; it was the only gift he could think to give her, a gift she would most certainly need once he had the entire Stone again. _Or you could destroy her along with you,_ the voice in his mind suggested, _an eternal peace, together…_ But he knew Darcy would not appreciate such a _reward_, and so he denied the thought.

"Oh I see exactly what's in front of me mother." He laughed then, a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders and mind again as he once more imagined a universe without the realms that had brought him so much pain, pain he could free the entire cosmos of. It was only a fantasy, but one that brought him dark pleasure.

"Loki, _please._" She was right behind him now, and although she couldn't touch him, he could still feel her presence, a kiss of static against the back of his neck. He turned to face her finally.

Her cheeks were still glistening with whatever ghostly tears she'd shed, but no more fell in their stead. He smiled, then reached out and passed his fingers through where her hands clutched at her attire, his limb moving straight through her arms and stomach. Her incorporeal form left a warm tingle across his skin. "We should really think about getting your true form back, don't you think so? I'm sure a glass of Kusymre wine would do you wonders."

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_**Author's Note:**_

_Short I know, but hopefully a good enough start anyway. I had to lay some ground work first to show what old Loki has been up to, and I'm sure you have questions about...well, you know what, I can't really say because that could be spoiler territory. SO... I hope you enjoyed this brief intro/initial chapter, and I'm hoping that I can get another update in soon._

_I'm starting my new job on Monday though (YAAAAAAAAAAY!), so I can't really make any serious promises other than: I will try my hardest to update regularly!_

_Thanks again for reading. You guys rock :)_


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